An Umbrella for Two
by Republik Osterreich
Summary: Well...USxUK. I support the other way around, but still. Alfred gets a call from Iggy...
1. Chapter 1: A Pestered and Tired American

_Intro__-_

_It is sometime in the near future. A devastating depression on all aspects of human society has the world in its iron grip. All hell breaks loose as men find themselves in an "every man for himself" war for survival. Countries, their people, cities, neighbors, friends, friends, and families turn against each other in order to survive. The basic government and country system remains intact, but for how long is a depressing mystery. An almost tangible fog of doom has settled upon the world…_

Chapter 1: A Pestered and Tired American

The whole entire United States had fallen silent. Every electronic device, every car, and every light had shut off, as if the country itself is holding their breath, waiting to see what would happen. One phone in Washington D.C, however, had been ringing off the hook since 4 A.M. Only one American, with his hand practically glued onto the phone, was there to answer the various calls from the capitals of the countries of the world. Calls of distress from Tokyo, Berlin, Vienna, Paris, Madrid, Beijing, Stockholm, Moscow, Warsaw, Seoul, Canberra, Minsk, Brussels, Ottawa, Havana, Copenhagen, Tallinn, Helsinki, Athens, Budapest, Reykjavik, Rome, Riga, Vaduz, Vilnius, Mexico D.F, Oslo, Bern, Ankara, Kyiv, Hanoi, and even from Pyongyang arrived as the countries of the world scrambled to pull themselves together. Even Alfred was not an exception in this situation. In fact, the former hero was the first to succumb to what had seemed like a simple cold. It turned out to be a full scale depression that erupted in various parts of the world and felling countries like a set of dominoes.

It was now 9:30 A.M. The seemingly incessant stream of calls had only just stopped, and an eerie silence settled over America's office. Tired, Alfred unconsciously rubbed the dark circles under his eyes, which had been growing ever since the pandemonium first started. Something was missing. Somebody important had not called. Was it Russia? No. Ivan had called him around 5:25 A.M, frantically listing the incidents of casualties as his people massacred each other for food. He had grown too big, too tall, and too arrogant, and now he was falling apart, paying the price. In spite of his supposed concern for Ivan, Alfred smirked darkly. Then, was it China? No. Yao had been the very first to call, at 4:00 A.M. sharp, to file an emotional report on the halt in the production lines in his country. Now, there was a problem. If Yao's people ad stopped producing goods…God, Alfred thought, what is going on? He just hoped that the issue, whatever it was, wasn't permanent. He continued to flip the pages of his notepad, perusing the now extensive and illegible notes on the calls from the different countries. Japan? Germany? France? Korea? Alfred even double checked to make sure that Canada was on the list. Alfred groaned in frustration. Who was he forgetting? And that is when the phone rang so conveniently, for the first time in two hours.

*Chapter end notes: Oh gee, I should NOT have been writing this. This story just popped up into my head while analyzing some passages from "A Separate Peace" and studying for the PSATs…Definitely an example of what I should NOT have been doing, but well, here we go. This is a possibly 7 chapter USxUK fanfiction. The actual USxUK stuff doesn't come up until later in the story, since I need to talk about some of my other favorite characters. And the inspiration for this…odd apocalyptic story? It's the scene where Iggy's standing in the rain after Alfred leaves him (revolutionary war). It was such a sad and memorable scene. I'm usually for UKxUS, but the story only works out this way…


	2. Chapter 2: An Unbalanced Brit

Chapter 2: A Sick-Sounding and Unbalance British Gentleman

"Hello?" As soon as the nervous greeting left Alfred's mouth, a string of incomprehensible sounds were heard over the phone. "Excuse me?" Alfred asked, slightly annoyed. This was no time to play around with some idiot that dialed the wrong number, wanting to find out if Pizza Hut does deliveries even in the face of the annihilation of mankind. After another avalanche of slurred words, Alfred was barely able to catch something that sounded like 'England'. Eyes widening, Alfred abruptly pushed himself up. Of course! That's who he had been forgetting! The Brit with his idiotic Union Jack hadn't called him, and he had felt uncomfortable about it. It was a wonder he hadn't died yet, especially with his zero alcohol-tolerance and food that needs censoring. It was most likely that Arthur had called to yell at him for his incompetence in foreign affair. Alfred moaned in annoyance, and slid his fingers through his hair. Listen, I don't have time to listen to your ranting crap, okay? I…" He was cut off by another string of slurred words, one of which sounded remarkably like 'come' and 'please'. Alfred slammed one hand on the desk. "Are you okay? Do you need me to come over?" While he was speaking the receiver on the other side fell to the floor, and stayed that way. What if he was dying? Numerous, unspeakable, and horrifying scenarios ran through the American's mind. Alfred, even though he was in quite a fix himself, didn't want England to fade away like Prussia did. Alfred made a grab for his pre-packed overnight bag and made a dash for the airport. There wasn't any time to waste. He couldn't bring himself to let Arthur die. The last time Arthur was sick, Alfred just watched in mock schadenfreude while Arthur suffered on the brink of death. That wasn't going to happen ever again.

*Chapter end notes : Usually, I would be sick and tired of Alfred's "hero" routine…But yeah. I think the story is writing itself sometimes. I was writing this, and was all like "BLOODY HELL WHAT IS THIS TRASH?" It's my first time writing a fanfic…Yet I cannot forgive myself for writing against my favored pairing. ANYWAY, read, review, and recommend please!


	3. Chapter 3:A Train of Thought Gone Astray

Chapter 3: A Train of Thought Gone a Little Astray

While sitting on the plane, Alfred fidgeted nervously, fingering the icy cold coke bottle in his hands. He hated the feeling of sitting there, unable to do anything while Arthur could possibly be dying at this very moment. He shivered, all the warmth leaving his body. Alfred's thoughts turned to the last two incidents when he witnessed the death of a country. The first to go was Prussia. The former Black Eagle of death had almost succumbed to whom he had wanted to think of as his friend. Weakened by wars, Gilbert had been dying ever since the Seven Weeks War. Austria backstabbing him had Gilbert in his knees. He had loved Roderich, and the betrayal pained him greatly. Prussia since then, had faded away, and lost the will to live. Germany had forcibly put Gilbert on life support, hidden away in the deepest, most secretive room of his house. Now with Ludwig considerably weakened, there was no guarantee that he could support his elder brother any further. The once great military empire had turned into nothing but a pitiful half-vegetable, all because of love.  
There was also the case of Ivan. Ivan had a big family. Sure, some of them were intimidated or forced into living with him, but they were loyal. Belarus and Ukraine had truly loved Ivan. After all, they were family. Ah, Alfred smiled despite his present situation. Family…is indeed a good thing. But as quickly as the pleasant feeling came, a bitter one replaced it just as fast. "But family can leave you," he muttered absently, "They'll use you and leave you to rot, just like Arthur did to me." Look at what happened to Ivan, he thought. The once great USSR had faded away after the cold war. China, his former lover, and the rest of his rather large family had abandoned him. His so called 'family' just backstabbed him and left. Alfred almost regretted this. It had been his fault Ivan had faded away. But he had been reborn as the present day Russia. That was one of the bigger reliefs. But despite the rebirth of his old enemy and friend, Alfred could not forget the cold fact that even family could betray you.  
For the rest of the flight, Alfred tried to empty his mind by staring at the clouds outside. Such a beautiful world, he thought, so ravaged by war, heartbreak, and destruction…But it was the same sky from centuries before when there was no war. I don't want this world to die, not just yet.  
I want to protect this world from myself

*Chapter End Notes: TOTALLY IRRELEVANT AND YOU MAY SKIP THIS RAMBLING  
Sorry I had to cut the chapter here…But I wanted to explain Alfred a little bit. I was thinking of writing a "Evil Series", where each country would be the embodiment of one of the 7 Deadly Sins. Alfred would be Greed, who in a war ravaged era, opens his eyes to see the beautiful world as it is, and protect it whatever the cost, even if it means using the most despicable and dark means possible.  
So… the alignment goes like so:  
(and the official…Seven Deadly Sins Video though I don't really agree with some)  
Greed-Alfred Jones (America) as explained above.  
Pride-Gilbert Weilschmidt (Prussia) for the most obvious reasons, right? Oresama-no awesomeness? But I think he will be portrayed as a respected, but lonely and unloved character, due to his pride  
Lonely Prussia Video  
Envy-Arthur Kirkland (England) I always imagined him to be a very "green" character.  
Lust-Francis Bonnefroy (France) won't waste time explaining…  
Sloth-Heracles Capursi (Greece) Laziest character. EVER.  
Gluttony- Feliciano Venazio Varfas () It even SAYS in Hetalia that he's a glut.  
Wrath- Ivan Braginsky (Russia) He seems to have a lot of hatred towards every one. While he hides it well, it sometimes explodes to the surface and can be seen visually. He holds grudges and rarely forgives. Hate is the key word here.  
Back to Alfred in my story. At this point, Alfred is thinking quite coldly. He doesn't believing love in this world because he was heartbroken about how Arthur used him as, like, his private ATM. But as the embodiment of greed, Alfred subconsciously wants to see the good of this world and make it his forever. One of them just happens to be love, and Alfred still is very confused about his feelings for Iggy. Though he wants to deny it, it's like a magnet. Honestly I don't know how the two will turn out in the story yet…;^; no spoilers…


	4. Chapter 4: He Turns Out to be Drunk

Chapter 4: Where the Brit Turns Out to Be Quite Drunk

The moment the plane touched the grounds at Heathrow airport, Alfred started vacillating on what to do. Should he just let him die? The man who raised me, who taught me, who guided me in such a world, filled with wrong? The man I had once called brother? Alfred reached his motorcycle parked in his private plane hangar. Standing in front of the sleek, black, powerful looking Harley Davidson, Alfred paused, his hesitating hand reaching towards the keys. Arthur had given him the motorcycle for his birthday. "Arthur…" He muttered, the image of England's pained face flashing across his mind. With a new determination, Alfred swung his longs legs over the seat of the motorcycle, turned on the engine, and sped off into the gray and rainy streets of England.

It was drizzling, as always. Arthur's penthouse apartment was located a little into the countryside, detached from the crowded city of London. Taking the elevator to the 6th and top floor, Alfred ran up to the door and rang the doorbell. There was no reply. Even more shocking, Alfred discovered that the door was open. Cautiously opening the door, Alfred entered the elegantly (if not old fashioned) furnished house. There were teacups everywhere, and cards were strewn all across the living room floor. The "Toussaint Lyphard Melody" (by. Richard Clayderman) was playing quite morbidly in the background. Avoiding stepping on the teacups, Alfred tiptoed over to the stereo system and turned it off. Now, where was the Englishman?

Stopping only to check the bedroom for a brief moment, Alfred walked straight to England's study. There, concealed from immediate view due to the sofa having its back towards the door, was Arthur. He was sprawled on his back, breathing heavily, with his right arm draped on the arms of the sofa, and his left covering his eyes. Scared, Alfred rushed to Arthur's side to shake him awake. After a few slaps on the cheeks, Arthur had finally come to. Groaning, Arthur righted himself and brought his hand to his head. "Ugh…" Then he promptly fell back on the sofa upon seeing the American. His breath stank of alcohol. Picking up the flask on the floor next to the sofa, Alfred unscrewed the top and smelled it. Rum.

Looking around the room, Alfred noticed the cans of beer, clothing and other rubbish littering the place. A barrel of what seem to be rum stood defiantly in the corner. There seemed to be a few vodka bottles thrown into the mix, as well. "How…" The American turned to look at Arthur. "Did you…"

*Chapter End Notes: …I apologize for my lack of experience. See, you can tell that Iggy's been like this for days. Poor Iggy… Considering how little Alcohol he can handle at a time…and judging by the vodka bottles, I'd say that it's been about 2 to 3 weeks at the least?


	5. Chapter 5: Drowning the Anglophile

Chapter 5: Drowning the Anglophile

Getting up briskly from the sofa, and muttering something about a shower, the Englishman walked to the bathroom and locked the door behind him. Alfred heard him turn on the shower. While waiting for Arthur to come out, the American opened the large curtained windows and started cleaning the room, sighing repeatedly. Even after so many years the Englishman was absolutely impossible.

While cleaning and trying not to think, an hour passed, and yet the bathroom door remained closed. What was England doing? Alfred took off Texas, rubbing his temples. Everything…was so messed up. Wasn't he the hero? Wasn't he the one who was supposed to fix everything?

Taking a bold step towards the bathroom, he knocked on the door.

"Are you trying to drown yourself or something?" He said, putting one hand on his hip and using the other to lean on the bathroom door, which opened a mere second later. Arthur stood in the doorway, with his head dripping wet and a towel draped around his shoulders. They stood there for what seemed like forever, with the steam billowing out of the bathroom around Arthur, with his white shirt almost transparent from being wet… 'Oh God,' Alfred thought. What was he thinking…?

"What?" The Englishman was the first to break the dreadful silence. Feigning annoyance, Alfred retorted. "You just gonna stand there?" gesturing towards the messy room.

Walking over to the mahogany table, England wordlessly picked up a bottle of beer, emptying it. "What do you think you're doing?" Alfred said, snatching the bottle out of his hands. "Drinking won't make the problems go away! Let's go get something to eat. Bring France and Spain over, too. Like old times, you know?"

The Englishman said nothing, opening another bottle and continuing to drink. "Fine! Be that way!" Alfred turned around and started out the door when Arthur slammed the bottle on the table, still holding onto it to support his swaying body. Then he spoke.

"You thought you could just leave after hurting me like that?"

((AMERICA….BAKA!))


	6. Chapter 6: Stupid American Wanker!

Chapter 6: Stupid American Wanker!

"H…hurt you?" The American laughed nervously. "I was trying to help you!"

"No… Arthur continued, putting his hand over his heart. "It hurts…right here, you know?" The Englishman sank to his knees in despair, with tears streaming down his cheeks. "Dammit… why is it always raining…"

"…Rain?" The American paused. "Oh!" It couldn't be…It was so long ago…

Yes, Alfred remembered, lost in his train of thought yet again. The year was 1781, at Yorktown. Alfred had outnumbered Arthur's troops by one that was twice the size. Not only that, Arthur's army was pinned against the water, with no navy to rescue it. Francis had made sure of that, after all. Arthur, with such foolish pride, tried to slip away, but Alfred had him at gunpoint in no time.

It was raining.

The Englishman easily overpowered Alfred with a burst of determination. He could have shot the American then. But…Alfred wondered. Why didn't he? When Arthur fell to the muddy ground, sobbing, just as he was now, Alfred could have shot him, that helpless and broken man. But why didn't he? What was that instinctive feeling that told him that he could not possibly kill that man in front of him?

Kneeling on one knee in front of Arthur, just like the Englishman used to in the old days, he whispered. "It's not that you've gotten smaller, it's that I've grown up to match you. It's not that I've gone away…because I'm right here." Then, he gathered the sobbing Englishman into his arms in a tight, but gentle hug.

Clasping their hands together, Alfred quietly asked the Englishman, who was blushing and looking away. "So…will you come with me?"

Arthur looked up at him, startled. "Wha…What the hell are you talking about?"

((Did some research. It DID rain in Yorktown. A thunderstorm prevented Cornwallis' troops from slipping across the James rover to safety, which caused them to surrender, not retreat. That episode where Alfred fights Iggy in the rain is historically accurate))


	7. Chapter 7: Come With Me

Chapter 7: come With Me

"What do you mean, what am I talking about?" Alfred tilted his head in a questioning way. "There's a whole world out there that need fixing! You and me, saving the world in her time of need! C'mon, let's be heroes together!"

Alfred stood up and stuck out his hand towards England with a mischievous smile on, as if daring him to take the challenge. When Arthur remained speechless and failed to reply, the American puffed up his cheeks and huffed.

"Seriously! Do I need to do everything for you?" With that remark, Alfred lifted up Arthur in his two arms, and in a funny hobble, walked out of the room and continued on his course to exit the house, pausing at the main door to put Arthur down and give him a quick kiss on his cheeks. The Englishman, who was holding onto the American for dear life while in his arms, almost sank to his knees, blushing furiously.

America, chuckling lightheartedly at this sight, grabbed England's hand and started to drag him out the door, down the elevator, into the unrelenting rain…

"W…Wait!" The Englishman called out frantically. Alfred turned around to see a green umbrella unfold in front of his eyes, not quite unlike a flower or a sparkling gem. "Don't forget to take this…" Arthur said, walking over to cover Alfred's head from the rain." It would be horrible if you got a cold."

Smiling brightly for the first time in ages, the Englishman hugged America. "If you're going to change the world…" He spoke shyly, "Why not start right here?" Arthur pursed his lips, regretting ever asking that question.

"Fine," The American answered with a playful grin, "as long as you don't make me eat your food."

The green umbrella hid them from sight as they kissed in the rain.

((Finished! Thanks for keeping up… This is my first attempt at multichapter…so! Reviews? Don't forget to check out my blog: .com check the january 2011 tab for the postscript!))


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